


desperate

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Supernatural Voyeurism, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It doesn’tmatterthat Elias isn’t there and can’t technically stop him. All that matters is that Elias can see him without needing to look, that Eliasknowswhenever he tries to disobey the order -finger yourself, nothing else, just that until I tell you otherwise- and he makes that known every time.





	desperate

**Author's Note:**

> jon being trans in this is only relevant to the junk terms i'm using, but fair warning that those terms are cunt/clit, for anyone uncomfortable with those re trans guy characters!

Jon shifts on the bed, letting out a shuddering gasp as the movement makes the two fingers he has pushed up inside himself press against the edge of his hole. He doesn’t know how long it’s been now, just that he’s soaked and desperate and that his wrist aches and he needs to come already, but that every time he tries to rest his hand or sneak his thumb up to his clit Elias makes a disapproving noise or says his name in a scolding tone and it doesn’t _matter_ that Elias isn’t there and can’t technically stop him. All that matters is that Elias can see him without needing to look, that Elias _knows_ whenever he tries to disobey the order - _finger yourself, nothing else, just that until I tell you otherwise_ \- and he makes that known every time. All that matters is that Jon can’t _actually_ disobey, no matter how much his body keeps trying to out of desperation, and so he’s left just clutching his phone by his head and fucking the fingers of his other hand into his soaked cunt and writhing his hips desperately for more.

“Please,” he chokes out when it gets overwhelming. He doesn’t know how many times he’s begged already.

“Please?”

“ _Please_ , Elias.” Jon squirms his hips and curls his fingers inside himself and chokes back a gasp. “Please. I need— I need—”

It’s too hard to speak when he’s not allowed to stop for even a moment, so he tries to still his hand and Elias clucks his tongue and Jon is left whimpering as he starts moving again, every drag of his fingers too much and not enough at the same time. He can’t catch his breath long enough to speak coherently, though, so he ends up gasping and panting and trying to beg with every line of his body instead of with his words.

There’s a long enough pause on the line that he thinks Elias might actually be considering showing mercy, before he speaks again: “Use your _words_ , Jon. What do you need?”

Ah. So no mercy, then. Probably just enjoying the view of Jon useless and wrecked and desperate, from wherever he’s calling from. His office, most likely, at this time of day, and that thought alone - of Elias, smart and professional in his office and probably looking for all the world like he’s conducting some kind of business call, when actually he’s been listening to Jon fingering himself for the past who-knows-how-long - makes Jon groan and his hips stutter upwards desperately. Or maybe he’s being less than perfectly professional; Jon can’t _hear_ any signs that Elias is getting off himself, but if anyone could do it perfectly silently and with no indications at all in his voice or breathing, Jon suspects it would be him.

And that thought is even worse than the last, because he thinks about Elias leaning back in his chair behind his desk, one hand working over his straining cock in slow motions while the rest of him is still perfectly poised and professional, and Jon almost sobs with how desperate the image makes him. With how it makes his mouth water, with how he’s never been particularly interested in sucking anyone off before but right now there’s almost nothing he wants more than to have Elias fucking his face like that’s what he’s made for, like his mouth is there to serve no other purpose than getting Elias off.

Elias hums on the other end of the line, and the tone of it makes sure that Jon _knows_ Elias knows what he was thinking, that Jon knows that Elias both knows and approves, and he squirms and rolls his hips and tries his hand at speaking again.

“ _Please_ , Elias. Need— need to come _please_!”

He’s halfway to proud of himself for managing even that much right now, when every breath is rung out of him in a gasp and every word feels like a battle, and after he says it he’s left practically shaking with tension waiting for Elias’ response.

“Touch your clit,” Elias tells him after a pause that feels like eternity, but before Jon can even fully register it he continues, “But _don’t_ come.”

Jon’s half-certain this counts as some form of torture. He does as Elias tells him to though, lifts his thumb up to his clit and presses it there and rocks his hips into the contact, over and over and over until every inch of him is begging for release.

He doesn’t know how long he holds out for, only that he gets to the point that he’s begging on every breath - _please please pleasepleaseplease_ , until it’s more noise than word - before Elias speaks again: “Come, Jon.”

After so long, it doesn’t take more than a few moments before Jon is doing as commanded, cunt clenching around his fingers as he crashes over the edge with a desperate noise halfway to a sob. It feels like it lasts seconds and hours all at once, until he’s left shuddering and gasping because it’s abruptly too much, but he can’t bring himself to stop on his own so he begs again - _please_ , wrecked and shaking and desperate - and trying to squirm his hips away without ever stopping the movement of his hand.

“You can stop, Jon,” Elias’ voice cuts in, and Jon makes another wrecked noise with his relief as he slides his fingers out of himself with a wince and then pauses, halfway to wiping them on the sheets but suddenly unsure.

“What do I—?”

“Mouth,” Elias tells him, voice firm in comparison to the way Jon’s is shaking. “Use your mouth.”

He obeys readily, slipping his fingers into his mouth and starting to suck them clean. He’s not particularly fond of the taste, but following orders is easier than trying to think properly right now, and so he just keeps it up without protest until Elias tells him to stop and he pulls them back out of his mouth with a wet pop.

“Good,” Elias says softly, making Jon shiver. “Get yourself in order, and then you can rest.”

It doesn’t take long for Jon to sort himself out enough to curl under the covers on the other side of the bed, and part of him feels like he ought to protest at the idea of going to sleep at - he spares a glance at his phone - three in the afternoon, but the rest of him is just sluggish and tired and much too exhausted to do anything _but_ sleep, and that’s the part that wins out. Especially when Elias is telling him to do that. So he just curls under the covers as instructed and sets the phone on the pillow, listening to the sounds of Elias’ breathing across the line.

(the last thing Jon remembers before falling asleep is Elias’ voice saying _good boy_ , soft and quiet, and the surge of warmth it causes in his chest)


End file.
